On the Cowboy's Trail: Western Boxed-Set. Coolidge Dane

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СКАЧАТЬ the voices, a silvery ripple in the laughter, which told him what Creede with all his cunning could never guess; they were voices from another world, a world where Hardy had had trouble and sorrow enough, and which he had left forever. There was soldier blood in his veins and in two eventful years he had never weakened; but the suddenness of this assault stampeded him.

      “You better go first, Jeff,” he said, turning his horse away, “they might –– ”

      But Creede was quick to intercept him.

      “None o’ that, now, pardner,” he said, catching his rein. “You’re parlor-broke –– go on ahead!”

      There was a wild, uneasy stare in his eye, which nevertheless meant business, and Hardy accepted the rebuke meekly. Perhaps his conscience was already beginning to get action for the subterfuge and deceit which he had practised during their year together. He sat still for a moment, listening to the voices and smiling strangely.

      “All right, brother,” he said, in his old quiet way, and then, whirling Chapuli about, he galloped up to the house, sitting him as straight and resolute as any soldier. But Creede jogged along more slowly, tucking in his shirt, patting down his hair, and wiping the sweat from his brow.

      At the thud of hoofs a woman’s face appeared at the doorway –– a face sweet and innocent, with a broad brow from which the fair hair was brushed evenly back, and eyes which looked wonderingly out at the world through polished glasses. It was Lucy Ware, and when Hardy saw her he leaped lightly from his horse and advanced with hat in hand –– smiling, yet looking beyond her.

      “I’m so glad to see you, Miss Lucy,” he said, as he took her hand, “and if we had only known you were coming –– ”

      “Why, Rufus Hardy!” exclaimed the young lady, “do you mean to say you never received any of my letters?”

      At this Creede stared, and in that self-same moment Hardy realized how the low-down strategy which he had perpetrated upon his employer had fallen upon his own head a thousandfold. But before he could stammer his apologies, Kitty Bonnair stood before him –– the same Kitty, and smiling as he had often seen her in his dreams.

      She was attired in a stunning outing suit of officer’s cloth, tailored for service, yet bringing out the graceful lines of her figure; and as Hardy mumbled out his greetings the eyes of Jefferson Creede, so long denied of womankind, dwelt eagerly upon her beauty. Her dainty feet, encased in tan high boots, held him in rapt astonishment; her hands fascinated him with their movements like the subtle turns of a mesmerist; and the witchery of her supple body, the mischief in the dark eyes, and the teasing sweetness of her voice smote him to the heart before he was so much as noticed.

      No less absolute, for all his strivings, was the conquest of Rufus Hardy, the frozen bulwarks of whose heart burst suddenly and went out like spring ice in the radiance of her first smile.

      “I knew you’d be glad to see me, too,” she said, holding out her hand to him; and forgetful of all his bitterness he grasped it warmly. Then, tardily conscious of his duty, he turned to Jeff.

      “Miss Kitty,” he said, “this is my friend, Jefferson Creede –– Miss Bonnair.”

      “I’m glad to meet you, Mr. Creede,” said Kitty, bestowing her hand upon the embarrassed cowboy. “Of course you know Miss Ware!”

      “Howdy do, Miss,” responded Creede, fumbling for his hat, and as Miss Lucy took his hand the man who had put the fear of God into the hearts of so many sheep-herders became dumb and tongue-tied with bashfulness. There was not a man in the Four Peaks country that could best him, in anger or in jest, when it called for the ready word; but Kitty Bonnair had so stolen his wits that he could only stand and sweat like a trick-broken horse. As for Hardy he saw rainbows and his heart had gone out of business, but still he was “parlor-broke.”

      “I am afraid you didn’t find the house very orderly,” he observed, as Creede backed off and the conversation sagged; and the two girls glanced at each other guiltily. “Of course you’re just as welcome,” he added hastily, “and I suppose you couldn’t help cleaning house a bit; but you gave us both a bad scare, all the same. Didn’t you notice how pale we looked?” he asked, to mask his embarrassment. “But you were right, Jeff,” he continued enigmatically.

      “Does he always defer to you that way, Mr. Creede?” inquired Kitty Bonnair, with an engaging smile. “We used to find him rather perverse.” She glanced roguishly at Hardy as she gave this veiled rebuke. “But what was it that you were right about? –– I’m just dying to ask you questions!”

      She confessed this with a naive frankness which quite won the big cowboy’s heart, and, his nerve coming back, he grinned broadly at his former suspicions.

      “Well,” he said, “I might as well come through with it –– I told him I bet we’d been jumped.”

      “Jumped?” repeated Miss Kitty, mystified. “Oh, is that one of your cowboy words? Tell me what it means!”

      “W’y, it means,” drawled Creede, “that two young fellers like me and Rufe goes out to ride the range and when we come back some other outfit has moved into our happy home and we’re orphans. We’ve been havin’ a little trouble with the sheep lately, and when I heard them pots and kittles rattlin’ around in here I thought for sure some Mormon sheepman had got the jump on us and located the ranch.”

      “And what would you have done if he had?” continued Kitty eagerly. “Would you have shot him with that big pistol?” She pointed to the heavy Colt’s which Creede had slung on his hip.

      But this was getting too romantic and Western, even for Jeff. “No, ma’am,” he said modestly. “We just carry that to balance us in the saddle.”

      “Oh!” exclaimed Kitty, disappointed, “and didn’t you ever shoot anybody?”

      Creede blushed for her, in spite of himself. “Well,” he replied evasively, “I don’t know how it would be up where you come from, but that’s kind of a leadin’ question, ain’t it?”

      “Oh, you have, then!” exclaimed Kitty Bonnair ecstatically. “Oh, I’m so glad to see a really, truly cowboy!” She paused, and gazed up at him soulfully. “Won’t you let me have it for a minute?” she pleaded, and with a sheepish grin Creede handed over his gun.

      But if there had been another cowboy within a mile he would have hesitated, infatuated as he was. Every land has its symbolism and though the language of flowers has not struck root in the cow country –– nor yet the amorous Mexican system of “playing the bear” –– to give up one’s pistol to a lady is the sign and token of surrender. However, though it brought the sweat to his brow, the byplay was pulled off unnoticed, Hardy and Lucy Ware being likewise deep in confidences.

      “How strange you look, Rufus!” exclaimed Lucy, as Kitty Bonnair began her assault upon the happiness of Jefferson Creede. “What have you been doing to yourself in these two years?”

      “Why, nothing,” protested Hardy, a little wan from his encounter with Kitty. “Perhaps you have forgotten how I used to look –– our hair gets pretty long up here,” he added apologetically, “but –– ”

      “No,” said Lucy firmly. “It isn’t a matter of hair, although I will admit I hardly knew you. It’s in your eyes; and you have some stern, hard lines about your mouth, too. Father says you spend all your time trying СКАЧАТЬ